


The Mandalorian’s Reward

by ScarletWillows



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alien Cultural Differences, Alien Mandalorian, Alien Sex, Alien/Human Relationships, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Star Wars Setting, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Armor Kink, Brief mentions of negative body image, Creampie, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Cunnilingus, Cussing, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, F/M, Fellatio, Forced Bonding, Forced Prostitution, Height Differences, Height Kink, Het, Impact Play, Interspecies Relationship(s), Kink Negotiation, Mandalorian, Mandalorian Culture, Masturbation, May/December Relationship, Minor Angst, Minor Canonical Character(s), Minor Violence, Naked Female Clothed Male, OC Female Human - Freeform, OC Mandalorian, Oral Sex, Past Rape/Non-con, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Prostitution, Shameless Smut, Size Kink, Smut, Spanking, Star Wars - Freeform, Strangers to Lovers, Vaginal Sex, Voyeurism, Xenophilia, age gap, authority kink, brief mention of food insecurity, d/s rules, helmet kink, mask kink, the mandalorian - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:55:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21881875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarletWillows/pseuds/ScarletWillows
Summary: Another backwater planet on the outskirts of the galaxy.Another successful bounty frozen in carbonite.Another celebratory visit to a tired, dusty brothel.He didn’t expect to find his richest reward yet in a place like this.She didn’t expect to care about anything besides her freedom.
Relationships: OC Mandalorian/OC Human female
Comments: 126
Kudos: 244





	1. The Brothel

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Warnings** : This story does not follow TV-canon and can be considered an AU of the Star Wars Mandalorian universe. This story contains graphic depictions of sexual situations between adults (read the tags for full details), and strong themes.

If any of the above triggers you or you’re not of legal age, then you should _not_ be reading this story. Since you have been warned, I will not take blame for your ignorance or prejudice.

As an English major, I make an obsessive effort to catch spelling and grammatical errors, but constructive criticism is welcome. My adoring husband who is always roped into being my unwitting beta-reader

 **Pairing** : OC alien Mandalorian x OC female human

 **Dedication** : This is for my lovely, kinky friend, Sarah.

**  
The Mandalorian’s Reward **

** By Scarlet Willows **

** Chapter One - The Brothel**

Another backwater planet on the outskirts of the galaxy.

Another successful bounty frozen in carbonite.

Another celebratory visit to a tired, dusty brothel.

The Mandalorian strode into the run-down cantina, towering easily over the other patrons. His well-kept beskar armor turned heads and brought unwanted attention. However, the blaster at his hip and his imposing presence assured that any trouble gave him a wide berth.

A fat, old Kitonak female, no doubt the madam of the establishment, approached the Mandalorian from a side door. She had plastered a toothy smile from ear to ear as she took in his head-to-toe beskar set. Her beady eyes glinted. He knew she was calculating the credit value of his armor, wondering how much she could overcharge him. “Greetings, Mandalorian! Welcome to-”

“Your best room for the night...and your dinner special brought to the room as well,” he intoned flatly, throwing a bag of credits onto the counter. She grinned and motioned for him to follow through a doorway and upstairs. Her flabby rolls jiggled as she waddled in front of him.

“Shall I send up a few of my best girls as well, sir?” The madam rasped, a voice weathered from too many years sucking on death-sticks.

Even though he frequented brothels often, he rarely partook in their particular delights. He didn’t need the distraction. But, as a bounty hunter, he had an image to uphold as a mysterious man with questionable morals. It was safer if his enemies had _incorrect_ notions about his habits. Plus, the rooms were usually cheaper, the services more inclusive...and brothels were usually a great spot to pick up work.

But today...today he was feeling weak, his past failures haunting him even in the face of his success.

They arrived at the room and he motioned the madam closer. She leaned in conspiratorially, eyes wide. He cleared his suddenly tight throat. “Just one girl. I’ll pay for the whole night. I want her...small and...submissive,” he was glad the helmet hid his warm cheeks. “She must be of age, but not too old. And above all, she must be clean and healthy. _Healthy_ , understand?”

“Of course, sir. Only the best for our best guest. I have just the girl in mind. A shy little wisp of a thing,” she winked and bustled away, an excited wiggle to her waddle.

The master suite was dim and nondescript, if a little worn, but it served his purposes. He paced until his meal was brought up - some sort of meat stew - and then he was finally able to take off his helmet. He ate, showered, sanitized his clothes, and repaired his gear before redressing in it. He sighed in relief. A belly full of home cooked food and a hot shower did wonders after weeks on the hunt.

The suns were setting on the horizon when there finally came a soft knock at his door. His heart sped up by a few beats as he replaced his helmet securely. He took a handful of seconds to breathe slowly, letting the thrill of anticipation settle in his stomach. “Enter.”  
  


* * *

“A Mandalorian is here!” squealed a Mirialan as she burst through the doors, followed closely by the madam. Many of the more experienced sex workers tittered and crowded the madam, begging to be assigned.

Yska huddled on her bed in the corner, hoping to avoid the madam’s attention. Her last client had been...less than gentle...and she wasn’t keen on repeating the experience any time soon. She hugged her knees to her chest, praying to disappear.

The Kitonak rubbed her flabby belly as she scanned the room, turning away overly enthusiastic girls, who grumbled bitterly. “Ah! There you are, Yska!” The madam clapped her hands gleefully.

There rose a collective groan and a few jealous glares shot in the girl’s direction. “C’mon, Tondah! _Not the human!_ She’s so new she could barely handle _one_ client. How’s she supposed to satisfy a _warrior_?” The madam shushed the Twi’lek absentmindedly.

“Hey! I’ve been here the longest! The creds I could make off this trick could pay off my contract _and_ get me off this rock!” A seasoned Zabrak interjected. The Kitonak brushed away the outbursts casually as she made her way to Yska’s bed.

Yska’s cheeks burned. The Twi’lek was right. With only a few scant weeks of training and only one client under her belt, she wasn’t sure how she could withstand the appetites of a...a warrior.

“Yska, come. You will attend the Mandalorian.” Tondah motioned for her to follow to the baths.

Yska sighed, unfurling reluctantly, hiding from envious stares behind her blonde tresses. Tondah usually left the girls to bathe and do their own hair and makeup, but apparently today was different. “I know your last assignment was hard on you. You’re too soft for this life. But with a beauty like yours, you’ll be able to pay off your contract in no time.” She filled the tub and ushered the listless girl into the warm waters. Yska was trying to staunch her shaking as the Kitonak washed her hair with her best perfumed soaps. Tondah directed the girl to clean all her delicate crevices while she readied the towels and change of clothes. “...I’m sorry to have to do this, Yska, but I’ll have a riot on my hands if I don’t take _at least_ seventy-five percent of your cut to distribute it amongst the other girls. If I don’t, the others will be out for blood, you understand, girl? It’s not personal, it’s just business.”

Yska pursed her lips, her nostrils flaring for a moment. The little human had never heard of the madam docking other girls’ pay to distribute! It wasn’t fair that they’d reap the benefits of _her_ hard work! After a minute of clenching her jaw, she remembered those envious glares and begrudgingly understood the madam’s logic. She wasn’t keen about it, but a large cut wasn’t worth the long-term wrath. She’d rather make nice with these women - she didn’t know how long she’d be living with them and she’d rather not have to constantly watch her back.

Staring at herself from across the mirror, the girl sat as the madam dried and styled her hair in loose waves. She chewed on her bottom lip, mind swirling. “Tondah...what _is_ a Mandalorian? Why are all the girls excited about it?”

“You don’t know, girl? What rock have you been hiding under?” She exclaimed as Yska shook her head. “Why, they are only some of the most famed warriors, mercenaries, and bounty hunters! Their beskar armor is legendary. A full set is worth more than everything in this tiny town combined. And they never take off their helmet in front of others. Never.”

“So...basically no one knows what they look like?” She rubbed her arms.

“Mmm, well...not exactly.” The madam turned the girl’s face to apply a subtle hint of color. “A Mandalorian can come from any species. So if you can figure out the species, you have a pretty fair guess. To be a Mandalorian is a way of life...like a religion or something.”

“So, what do you think I should expect?” The girl asked with a waver in her voice. A rich, masked warrior seemed like a dangerous client, especially for one as inexperienced as she. Her stomach turned, and she bit her reddened lip.

“Well, I’m not too sure. I don’t know what species he is, but he’s humanoid. I doubt he will undress...and, at any rate, you won’t see his face.” Tondah picked out a simple white nightdress for the girl to change into. It was innocent enough while still maintaining a sort of modest allure. “He asked for a small, submissive female, so just do exactly as he tells you, Yska. Remember your pseudonym. You’re pure and sweet and he’s going to pay _very_ well for you.”

One last check in the mirror showed Yska’s softly curled vanilla blonde mane, skin soft and fresh. Dewey eyes framed by satin lashes. Her nightgown was short and hugged her curves, complimented by a floral, lace-trimmed robe. Yska looked the picture of pure and innocent. Not far from the truth.

The madam smiled, leading her out through the jealous throng and up the stairs.

They came to the Mandalorian’s room and Tondah patted the girl’s arm comfortingly. Yska hadn’t realized her shaking had become noticeable. “Just remember your training, girl.”

Her breath fluttered and her heart pounded. Yska prayed to disappear.

* * *

The door slid open, revealing the short, chubby proprietress. The Kitonak waited at the threshold until the Mandalorian gestured her in.

A healthy - if a tad underfed - female followed her into the room, hands wringing and eyes cast downward. She stood behind her madam as if to hide, hips canted so that one leg bent demurely in front of the other. Her knees peeked from under gauzy gowns. Humanoid and fair, likely young and shy...just the way he liked. His anticipation flowed in a southern direction as his interest piqued. His beskar felt tight.

“Young, healthy, and submissive. Is she to your liking, sir? Because if not, I could-”

“No,” he held up his hand, scanning the girl from head to toe. “She is...very much to my liking. Well done.” He took a few steps forward and slid a few credits into the madam’s itchy palm as a handsome tip. The Kitonak bowed quickly and told him to enjoy as she locked the door on her way out.

The room was quiet without the Kitonak’s buffering energy. But the silence didn’t bother the Mandalorian...and neither did the sudden tension. The girl remained in place, a hand rubbing her bicep, eyes glued to the floor. He was used to this reaction. He knew how intimidating a six foot ten, fully armored commando was to most civilians.

He approached her slowly, standing at his full height, the weight from his boots resounding through the wood floor. She was so small compared to him, barely coming midway up his breastplate. He watched the girl try to shrink into herself, looking anywhere but at his helmet. He felt himself thicken just thinking of all the positions he could manhandle her into. He was charmed by that innocent blush dusting her cheeks and those glistening, ripe lips, and that nervous tremor to her fine-boned frame.

He curled his gloved finger around a lock of her blonde hair - it had been tickling her pale shoulders. He didn’t resist the temptation to tuck it behind her ear. He circled her slowly, towering, trailing gloved fingers along her angles. “What do I call you?” He asked flatly. The deep mechanical whir made her flinch in the stillness.

“T-tamry,” she stammered. She kept her eyes down. He could smell the lie. The Mandalorian made no comment. “And your name?”

The Mandalorian shook his head slowly, remaining silent. The girl chewed her lip and squirmed. “You are an adult for your species?” He gathered her hair, scenting a whiff of the delicate perfumes from under his helmet.

She nodded, “I’m a young adult, yes.”

“‘Yes,’ _what_?” He asked sternly, his thumb tracing her jugular.

“Yes... _s-sir_?” She whimpered, glancing at his helmet briefly, pulling her robe tighter.

“ _Good girl_ ,” he whispered. He leaned in as his fingers tipped her chin up to meet his masked gaze properly. She flinched, gasping quietly as she found herself face to face with his visor. He held her there for long moments, watching her chest rise and fall. “Are you afraid, Tamry?” His voice held no emotion, but his breath had sped up.

Her blue eyes flitted about, blinking back pain before finding the floor again. “Let’s just say...it took a couple weeks to recover from...my last client.” Her voice was choked.

He stood up straight. He then noticed the faint traces of healing bruises on the back of her neck. It was obvious she had tried to hide it with her curled hair. He was thankful she couldn’t see the expression on his face and he kept it out of his voice when he said, “I’m not going to hurt you, Tamry.”

She looked up at him then, such sad eyes under long lashes, dainty hands fiddling with lace trim. No doubt that sorrow was easily dismissed by others - perhaps even considered an act - but he’d seen that look all too often in the mirror to be fooled. He found himself wanting to kiss that look off her face. He’d never wanted to kiss a hired girl before. In fact, he’d only ever wanted to share his lips with one female...and that had been so very long ago. His eyes widened at the sudden urge...and the strength of it. So, he settled for caressing the girl’s chin, running his thumb along her bottom lip. Her eyes fill with a hesitant warmth that traveled to his loins.

“On the bed,” he directed. Had she been able to see his face, she’d realize his eyes were softer than the authority in his voice. But she couldn’t...so her hesitant warmth turned cold and closed as she did as she was told. A hint of betrayal in her young eyes.

She was tiny on the massive bed. He swelled as his eyes caressed her smooth legs and delicate ankles. She crossed her legs as if she could feel the heat from his gaze. “Take your robe off,” he commanded. She shyly shrugged off the gauzy material and let it pool at her elbows as he approached the bed. She shivered, either from nerves or at the chill in the room, he wasn’t sure. He debated turning up the heat in the room, but he reasoned she would be warmed by the activity soon. He wagered it was mostly from nerves as her eyes remained downcast. Refusing to meet his gaze.

“Lie down on your front.” His voice turned husky with anticipation. She glanced at his helmet and complied hesitantly. The girl faced away from him and folded her arms under her chest as if she was trying to disappear into the covers.

She shuddered as he knelt on the bed, lungs stuttering as cushions sank under his weight. She swallowed as he removed his right glove and caressed the back of her thigh with his warm skin. He delighted in her second shudder as his hand moved slowly under her nightie. His hand was larger than her ass cheek and the reminder of her smallness had him straining in his pants. So soft, yet firm. So warm. He squeezed and dipped his thumb under the hem of her lingerie.

Suddenly, he pulled her back by her hips. “Up,” he commanded. She gasped and lifted on all fours. “No, head down, ass up.” He pushed her down between the shoulder blades and savored her whimper. She arched her back instinctively. “Good girl,” he praised, lifting her nightgown over her rump as he caressed her back. “And we won’t be needing _these_ anymore,” his voice rumbled as he pulled her lacy panties down to her thighs.

He sighed as he took in the girl’s gorgeous shape, her clear skin, and her plump feminine slit peeking from between luscious thighs. His mouth went dry. He thumbed a line up from her clit and along her folds, spreading her ass for his greedy gaze. He watched her bite her lip and squeeze her eyes closed as she nuzzled into the covers. “Not gonna hurt you, Tamry,” he said, petting her again. She whimpered, but nodded.

The Mandalorian watched the girl closely as he began to unbuckle his belts. The grind of the zipper and clink of metal reverberated loudly in the tense silence. The girl turned to peer over her shoulder curiously. He stopped. “Did I say you could look?”

She shrank and squeaked, “No, sir! I’m sorry!” She tucked her face into the pillows, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes as she began to tremble. Her hair fell to the side, fanning over the pillow. Fading bruises stared at him.

He sighed. “It’s alright,” he tried to soothe, but the words felt stiff. He wasn’t in the practice of being comforting; he was in the business of intimidation. He continued to unzip. “You didn’t know. You just want to be a good girl for me, don’t you, Tamry?” She nodded, trying to wipe her eyes discreetly. “Try to relax.”

Yska flinched when she felt his naked flesh brush her tender folds. She fought the urge to turn and look, gripping the sheets. Could she fit him? Was she healed enough? Would he turn rough like the last guy? How many times would she have to endure being used and discarded before she could buy her freedom? Uncertainty raced in her mind, causing her muscles to tense and tremor.

She could feel the Mandalorian rubbing the thick head of himself up and down, nudging against her entrance. Pushing in a millimeter here and there, using what little natural slick she had. She wasn’t aroused...so she wasn’t wet enough. Fear flashed suddenly. She’d rip again without help!

“Wait, please... _please_ ,” she begged, unable to stop the tears as she recalled the pain from the last time.

“What’s wrong?” There seemed to be some surprise in his voice. She tried to get the tears under control, but the more she tried, the more they came unbidden. Her throat felt tight.

“Please, sir...” the girl swallowed, fighting the panic. Her grip on the sheets looked painful. “Can we...can we use s-some lubrication? I can’t... _I can’t_ -”

“Oh, Tamry... _shhh_ ,” he cooed. Yska regretted the taste of the fake name, but she’d had to protect herself. He tilted her hips so she could lay on her side with him behind her. “Hey, I got you. _I got you_. I’m not _him_.” His gloveless hand carded through her hair as he gathered her into his arms. He shushed the girl gently as he petted, hoping his sympathy could be felt through his voice. “Your pleasure is _my_ pleasure. Just tell me where the lube is and we will use it.” He knew the issue was much deeper, but for one night, he hoped he could show this young woman that - at the very least - not every man wanted to harm her. And strangely...he briefly imagined being the man that helped her work through the rest of it.... He shook the absurd thought away.

She sniffled, eyes red, and nodding a little too quickly. “In...in the drawer.” She pointed to the nightstand.

The Mandalorian dug a little tube from the drawer with one hand and, when he returned, he urged her to scoot further into the center of the bed. With her legs bent to one side, he sidled up behind her. He squeezed a generous amount of the clear gel on his naked fingers before stroking the girl’s exposed slit, burying two digits into her warm folds slowly. “So tight,” he groaned. Within a few minutes, her sniffles had cleared and were replaced with tiny whimpers. “Come closer,” he encouraged her to lean into him, stretching his left arm under her head while his right played between her thighs.

Yska shivered as her warmed skin met his cold metal, but his fingers did seem to have the relaxing effect she’d needed. She could feel herself begin to open to his probing. The tension in her muscles melted away. Jolts of pleasure sang through her body like electricity, to her surprise. Not even Dex had touched her so well.

Yska didn’t want pain, but she didn’t necessarily want to enjoy this, either. She was only doing this to buy her freedom. She didn’t want this life. To enjoy was to _accept_. She tried to stifle her moans with a bitten lip, but the Mandalorian was too observant. “Did I say you could hide your voice from me, Tamry?” He whispered softly, the speaker close to her ear.

She shook her head, eyes squeezed shut. Maybe...enjoying _one_ night wouldn’t be so terrible. And really, when would she get a client who cared about her pleasure? That was almost unheard of. She decided - hesitantly - to try to treasure the small reprieve and be grateful that the Mandalorian seemed to be unselfish. She took a big breath...and let go. She was quiet, but she’d let her wall down at least. She felt the Mandalorian shift behind her, his hardness brushing against her squirming backside. She heard him inhale through his microphone, whispering, “ _So soft_ ,” more to himself than anyone else.

Yska heard the cap on the lube click, then a clatter as the tube was carelessly tossed on the nightstand. She felt the cool slick a moment later as the Mandalorian pressed himself to her from behind, withdrawing his fingers. Still slick, they migrated up to her clit and found a gentle rhythm. Yska shuddered at the new pleasure. A deep moan clawed it’s way from her throat and she mewled in its wake as he chose that moment to sheath himself inside of her. It was only the first couple inches, but she was glad he’d prepared her beforehand. It was definitely a stretch. She could not have taken him without having first been relaxed.

“Good girl. Breathe,” he gathered her hair in his left hand, pulling her closer to him. She could feel the visor of his helmet butt up against her ear. “Just breathe.” He eased in another inch. He hiked her right knee up and back over his hip, so he was almost underneath her. “That’s it. You’re doing so well,” he moaned. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say I was your _first_ with how tight your little parts are.” She could feel the amazement in his voice, even though it was subtle. Maybe he was even smiling. That sent a small thrill through her stomach. Yska liked the idea that she might be one of the few to put a smile on his face...even if she couldn’t see it.

“This is only my third time...,” she whispered, a blush on her cheeks. He groaned at that and seated himself fully to the hilt, causing her to gasp and whine.

He held her right knee up while he thrusted himself into her. Contrary to her fears, it actually felt good. Better than good! It was far superior to her previous encounters and she felt herself wishing that...it had only ever been him. A dangerous thought for a brothel girl. _Don’t get attached_ , was the mantra. Good sex did not mean feelings. But... _ah, fuck_ , this was how it always should have felt, she thought. Stretched just this side of pain, held immobile in arms so dangerous and strong, surges of electricity pulsing up from her core.

And the Mandalorian seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself as well, losing that silent stoicism. “So warm...so small.... ‘S been _so_ long, too long.... Such a sweet little thing for me to spoil.... Such a good girl for me, aren’t you, Tamry?” He growled between thrusts with such an ache in his voice that she couldn’t help but long to quench whatever he thirsted for.

“ _Yesss_ sir. _Aaaaah_!” she moaned long and hard when his right hand found its way to her clit again. He massaged circles into her sex, occasionally dipping his fingers into the slick they were making, bringing the lubricant back to her clit.

He rubbed her in time with his thrusts, her walls fluttering around him. “You wanna try to cum on my cock? I can feel your little sex thinking about it...” his speaker rumbled into her ear.

“I’ll - _ah, hmmm_ \- I’ll try, sir,” she practically sobbed from the pleasure, mewling as she squirmed.

He picked her up suddenly, positioning her on hands and knees so he could piston behind her. His hand reached around to find her clit again and she arched her back to meet him. His speed picked up, his greaves slapping against the backs of her thighs. She didn’t care. Hair hanging over her eyes, she mewled like a cat in heat, panting and desperate. Desperate for him to tip her over that precipice that no other man had. “I’m not gonna fill you up...until you cum for me...like my good girl should,” he panted in her ear.

The thought of his life inside her, hot and filling.... The fact that he’d wait for her pleasure first.... Yska’s whole body tensed. And then she let go, wailing as she clenched around the cock inside her. And true to his word, he waited until she was through the thick of her pleasure before groaning as he filled her. He was still pulsing inside her as she panted, limp and sated.

She thought he’d pull out immediately, clean up, and dismiss her. But he didn’t.

Instead, he rolled them to the side, still snug inside her. To her surprise, he caressed her, carding fingers through her now-messy tresses and palming her breasts as he basked in afterglow. More sentimental than she would have guessed for a battle hardened commando.

A few minutes later, their breathing calmed once more, he finally retreated...only to return seconds later to clean them both up. He didn’t say anything. Just moved silently. She caught a glimpse of his now-flaccid cock and his naked hand before he tucked and redressed, noting the predominant blue skin with distinct black, white, and yellow stripes. She couldn’t place the species, but then that wasn’t much to go on. Decidedly _not_ human.

As she watched him situate his weapons, Yska scolded her traitorous thoughts for wishing the night would last...or the hope that she’d see the Mandalorian again. Don’t get attached, she chided. She wouldn’t last long in this life if her heart was broken after every orgasm.

Yska wasn’t sure if the Mandalorian would want her to stay, but he’d likely want privacy now that he’d gotten what he’d paid for. She tried not to let that thought taste too sour...or let the tears sting in her eyes too obviously. Clearing her throat, Yska righted her nightgown, found her panties and robe, and tried her best impression of nonchalance.  
  


She stood quickly, hoping her hair hid her reddened eyes enough as she bowed, saying, “Please enjoy your night, sir.” She could not have crossed the room faster if she’d run. She needed to leave before she broke down again in front of this strange man.

She opened the door and just before she left...a thin whisper floated to her ears, aching and sad: “ _Did I say you could leave?_ ”

Yska swore her ears were playing a trick on her. She must have heard the wind in this drafty building. There was no way he could be calling out to her with such longing laced through his speaker.

She hung her head, closing the door behind her.

* * *

If you're enjoying this story, hit subscribe to be notified of updates and be sure to bookmark your place! I’ll try to be regular, depending on how this is received. I am a slow writer (oftentimes struggling with my muse or being pulled in many directions), but I never abandon my stories.

Reviews are crack for my fickle muse, so please leave some praise/constructive criticism - I'm always happy to improve my craft.

Also, in real life, _always use protection and get tested for STD's often_ \- I rarely show my characters doing this since they are mostly in magical worlds where this isn't an issue. Research and communicate with your partner before trying something new and be informed about risks. Be smart about your health and your partner's safety! I'll get off my soap box now...

Updated 9/3/2020


	2. The Deal

**Recap** : The Mandalorian bought the services of a shy brothel-girl named Yska, who lied about her name. She enjoyed their time together and wished it didn’t have to end...and that scared her.

 **Dedication** : This is for my awesome friend, Carl.

** The Mandalorian’s Reward **

** By Scarlet Willows **

** Chapter Two - The Deal**

The morning broke, cold and drizzly. The Mandalorian hadn’t slept well. In fact, he’d barely slept at all. Long, pale curls and sad eyes had him tossing and turning.

He’d paid for the girl’s services for the whole night, but hadn’t pressed it when she’d fled. He knew self-preservation coping skills when he saw them. He’d seen them often enough. She’d been afraid, but he’d given her comfort and pleasure, something she had obviously lacked with others. It scared her. Scared her even more than the pain and degradation she’d expected, no doubt. She was young and pure...too pure for the likes of this life. Not yet jaded.

That wouldn’t hold true in another year or so. That thought made him ill.

He threw the sheets off and made his way to the shower. He didn’t know her. She wasn’t anything to him.

Besides, even if she was...he was a hunter. That line of work didn’t lend well to serious relationships and he wasn't yet ready to remove his helmet for good.

Armor secure once more, he grabbed what little gear he had, making his way downstairs. Only a handful of staff were about, setting up for the morning meal. He purchased a few meals to go, settled up the rest of his brothel fees, and waited at the counter.

Just then, the Kitonak entered from a back room, yawning sleepily. She spotted the Mandalorian and made her way over, a glint in her beady black eyes. “Did the service last night meet your needs?” She leered.

“Yes, thank you,” he answered flatly, looking to the kitchens and drumming his fingers.

“Well, we look forward to your next visit, whenever you’re in this sector. I’ll give you a ten percent loyal customer discount,” she nodded and waddled away as his food was delivered in a bag. He nodded and took three steps towards the exit. Before he stopped.

_He was going to regret what he was about to do_...he just knew it.

He turned around and hailed the madam. She padded over enthusiastically, “Can I help you with something else, sir?”

“How much do you want for the girl?”

“Oh, well the price would be the same from last night. I have some rooms by the hour if you don’t want to stay another night. Will you-”

He held up his hand. “No, I mean...how much to buy out Tamry’s contract?”

“Tamry...? Oh, you mean Yska?” Her brows furrowed.

“Was that the girl you brought me last night? The blonde?”

“Yes, sir. I’m afraid she’s not for sale. You see, Yska just started. She’s very new and she’s got a lot of life and work left in her still. But you’re welcome to visit her...for a price, just like anyone else.”

The Mandalorian looked to the side for a moment before leveling the Kitonak again. “Everything’s for sale. Name your price.” His presence radiated danger.

The madam must have picked up on the energy, because she back-peddled slightly. “Well, now,” her eyes turned sly, “it would be an _impolite_ amount, I’m afraid. You see, I’d have to recover my costs for housing her _and_ break even on monies still owed on her contract. And I have to consider the future profits I’d be losing by letting her go.” She put a hand on her hip.

He paused, staring. Letting the tension build. Waiting for her to squirm.

It took a little bit longer - she’d been around the block and wasn’t a stranger to the rougher side of life. But, in his experience, eventually everyone cracked.

When he spoke again, his tone was deliberate and full of authority. “Five thousand chits. That should more than cover your cost.”

“Fine. If you have the cash, then you have a deal.”

* * *

The suns were just starting to peek through the dingy windows of the brothel dormitory. More like _barracks_ , in Yska’s opinion. She knew her eyes were red, most likely with dark circles. She hadn’t slept a wink. Instead she’d huddled in her lumpy bed, listening to the slow, rhythmic breathing of her dorm mates, waiting for the suns to wash the night away.

The Mandalorian’s gentleness had stung her...possibly worse than when Dex had sold her to the pleasure traders...after he’d gotten what he’d wanted.

The bounty hunter’s gentleness had felt worse because...she’d resigned herself to a life of...unkindness. No one had ever really wanted her. Her parents hadn’t wanted her: Yska and her younger sister had been left on the steps of a dilapidated orphanage when she was ten. No one had wanted to adopt her: a nice young couple had adopted her little sister...and not her. She’d eventually aged out of the system and had met Dex. No wonder she had desperately clung to the first person who’d showed her even a sliver of affection. Dex had been charming, suave, and promised safety. She’d been easy prey for him, a slave trade reconnoiterer.

She’d accepted that her lot in life was to be abandoned. She supposed she was good for little else but brothel work at this point, since she had nothing to fall back on.

But last night had opened a doorway to Hope. That maybe...maybe there could be some future where someone wanted something good for her. That it was possible there was someone out there who could want... _her_. Even as worthless as she was. And maybe that someone came in the shape of a certain tall, masked warrior. And that was a dangerous thought.

Yska knew it was a silly fantasy. She knew it was because she was young and desperate to fill the void of childhood. And she knew that it would never happen.

Sun rays crept over the wood floor. The light did nothing to ward off the chill in the room...or her heart. Yska shivered, rubbing her hands together and regretting the night of lost sleep. Tondah would want her working the floor now that she’d healed. “ _You were worth a few pretty coins, girl, and I expect you to make all that back for me with interest,_ ” the Kitonak would say again, no doubt. Yska tried to shake the thought from her mind.

She wished she could just view the work like the other girls - a business exchange, a service provided, a simple physical labor. They were tough, hardened. But Yska...she’d always had fantastical notions of romance. She’d been taught lovemaking was sacred. She’d thought Dex had been special enough to share that with the first time. Obviously she’d been wrong. So, how could she trust herself now if she hadn’t known in the first place who to put her trust in? If life was bound to be a disappointment, perhaps she’d just have to take all the meager scraps she could get without care...like the other prostitutes. _Only look out for yourself, because no one else will_ , the others had warned. _Take all you can get and leave them wanting._

But, all she found herself wishing she could do was go back to that room upstairs and peek under that mysterious helmet.

* * *

“Yska,” the Kitonak hissed in a stage whisper. Only the lightest sleeper stirred and covered her head with her blankets. The alarm would be waking everyone soon enough.

Yska startled, clenching her arms around her legs more tightly. The madam waddled closer and sat on the edge of Yska’s bunk. The Kitonak seemed to be bubbling with excitement - which Yska had only ever seen in conjunction with lots of creds. “What is it, Tondah?” Her voice came out scratchy from lack of sleep or water. She cleared her throat as quietly as she could.

“Yska, gather up all your things. Your contract has been purchased.”

A bolt of freezing terror ran through the human’s core. “W-what?”

“Your contract. It’s paid up. You’ve been sold,” the madam started pulling Yska’s drawers open and packing the girl’s meager things into a sack she’d brought. “I more than recouped my losses...with interest to spare!”

“Who...who bought me?” Yska swallowed, heart in her throat, numbly watching as her few possessions were tucked into the rucksack.

“Why, the Mandalorian, girl! My, my, that must be some snatch you have to have ensorcelled him! I thought he’d been upset when I saw you come back early - he paid for the whole night, after all. But, whatever you did made an impression. I bet the girls would want to know your secret! But then, I’d lose out on all my commissions if they kept leaving...so, keep it to yourself, will ya?”

Yska stood, fingers fidgeting. “Tondah...I swear I didn’t do anything special. I just...I think I was more of a wreck than anything.”

“Then chalk it up to your pretty face and thank the gods, girl. This is your ticket off this world. I’ll pray he treats you kindly.” She patted the blonde’s face, “Now, get dressed.” She set the rucksack down for the girl to finish, bustling out of the room as the alarm went off.

Groans of annoyance rose and a mass of feminine limbs stretched from under scratchy covers. Yska hurried to don a pair of simple leggings, tunic, jacket, and boots. She finished sanitizing her mouth with a sonic brush and secured the last of her toiletries into the bag. Before turning to leave, a shadow fell over her bed. Imalyn, the frustrated Zabrak from yesterday, loomed over her.

“Heard you’re getting out of this shit hole,” Imalyn glared, voice gruff, toned arms folded. The others stilled, scenting a fight in the air. Yska didn’t want to fight.... She didn’t know how. And she’d heard the older woman talk of her days as a cage brawler. The human shrank. Yska knew she didn’t stand a chance...and no amount of placating would redirect the Zabrak’s anger.

Imalyn let her arms fall to her sides, fists clenched and ready.

With a deep breath, she drew a dagger from her back pocket.

The girls gasped and Yska squeezed her eyes shut.

“Human...I want you to have this. Take it.” Yska’s eyes shot open. Brows to her hairline. Imalyn fit the dagger’s hilt into the human’s slack grasp. The Zabrak sighed through her nose, mouth tight. “If he ever hurts you...use it. Make a run for it as soon as you can. Get the hell out of this life and make it your own. For me.... For all of us, you hear?”

Yska nodded with misting eyes, her words getting stuck at the lump in her throat.

She and the Zabrak clasped forearms, so many unspoken words passing in the silence. Yska held her head high. No one said a word against her as she walked out the door and into her new life.

* * *

The Mandalorian waited, arms folded, leaning against the wall near the exit. His mind was racing. He wasn’t prepared to house a permanent resident on his ship. He’d have to get some more supplies to compensate for an extra mouth to feed. And she’d likely need some clothes and necessities. Maybe something to keep her entertained. What had he just done?

But...he couldn’t bring himself to regret it when he saw her emerge from the back door.

His stomach fluttered. She looked wholesome in her simple garb, hair gathered in a ponytail, rucksack slung over her shoulder. She followed the madam up to him, an air of quiet determination in her sleep-starved eyes. Eyes that met his visor more easily in the light of day.

“Thank you for your patronage, Mandalorian. I’ve sent the contract to your comm,” the Kitonak leered, giving a shallow bow. “Now, be on your best behavior, Yska,” she turned to the girl, patting her cheek. “We’ll miss you.”

“Thank you, Tondah. You’ve always tried to be fair to me,” the human said, her voice flat and rough from a sleepless night. Either that, or emotion. The Mandalorian was thinking of other more pleasurable ways to turn her voice hoarse.

Yska turned to him then, taking a step closer. Looking up at him from under tired eyes that were still so young and innocent. He looked her up and down once more. There was something about her...he couldn’t place it. But...he didn’t regret his decision. He nodded and turned to lead her out the door.

* * *

The morning drizzle had turned to a soft rain, the light reedy and faint behind the cloud coverage. She followed a pace behind him, head down to protect against the elements. With a glance, he realized her clothing wasn’t warm enough or weather proof like his armor.

The Mandalorian picked up his pace, locating a retailer along the main drag. He checked to make sure Yska was keeping up with his long strides and was satisfied. “This way.” They ducked into an unassuming store. “Pick out a warm coat.” The girl looked up at him uncertainly, shaking the droplets from her hair. “It needs to be sufficient for the weather.”

Yska perused options on a replicator screen, being mindful of the price and the time. He seemed to be in a hurry. She didn’t want to keep him waiting or cost him more money. “Is...is this one alright for...your budget?” She asked timidly, almost afraid to speak. Afraid to draw any attention.

“Money is no object. Your pack looks small. Get any other items you need. We won’t see another town for some time,” he commanded flatly.

She took a deep breath to steady her nerves. Well, she _did_ need more clothes. She only had three outfits to her name and she didn’t know when she’d get another opportunity. The bounty hunter went to another replicator and busied himself with restocking. Yska chose a dozen everyday outfits for varying temperatures and terrains, three dresses for special occasions, and four pairs of shoes. She also added a small case of cosmetics, toiletries, perfume, and lubrication. “Umm,” she signaled to him uncertainly. The Mandalorian strode over, looming behind her back. Yska’s cheeks turned red. “Is this alright, sir?” She scrolled slowly to show him her selections.

“Yes. But let’s increase this quantity.” He reached over her shoulder to tap on the screen to add more lubrication. The redness spread to Yska’s ears. She hadn’t wanted to assume how often he might want to take her, but the amount he’d entered indicated a lot.

“Um...is there anything specific you need me to get?” She felt his visor fix her with that blank gaze. He assessed her for a moment before wordlessly leaning over and tapping on the screen. She bit her lip as she watched him select several nightgowns and lingerie sets with varying degrees of sensuality. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach and heat pooled in her loins.

He paused, finger hovering over the checkout button. “What is your method of birth control?”

The human bit her lip, shifting her weight. “Tondah had us on oral hormone suppressants.”

“Unreliable,” he stated flatly. “We will get a Mesh.”

“What’s that?” She raised a curious brow.

“Nanite technology,” he explained, adding it to the digital cart. “It’s a chip that is placed inside your canal that destroys all sperm. Far more effective without disturbing your natural balance.” She looked down at the floor. He was in charge and had the final say, after all. She didn’t know much about all the options out there anyway, so who was she to argue? She didn’t put it past the Kitonak to have cut corners if it came to saving a few creds, even in this matter.

He returned to his console, inquiring, “You are human, yes? Humans are omnivores, correct?” Yska nodded. “Any allergies?”

“No, sir.”

He finalized the purchases and instructed the supplies to be transported to his ship’s cargo bay.Except for the rain coat, which was replicated on the spot for her immediate use. He’d calculated enough extra food, water, and supplies for at least three months, to be safe.

“Come, Yska,” he commanded as they left the store.

Out in the rain, Yska felt much better under her new coat as she followed closely in the Mandalorian’s wake.

His boots thumped thickly on the sidewalk. People turned their heads and stared.

Chewing her lip, she deliberated. Steeling herself, she fell into line at his side, saying, “Thank you. For the clothes.” He glanced at her, but remained silent. He hadn’t chided her for speaking out of turn, so she ventured again cautiously. “I’m sorry I lied to you about my name.”

He glanced at her again before returning his gaze to the sidewalk. She thought he wouldn’t answer again. “...I understand the necessity for it.” She looked up at him, fixing her eyes on his silvery visor. “Besides...I much prefer Yska to Tamry.” Warmth fluttered in her belly and she hid a pleased smile in the corner of her lips. With her eyes on the ground, she didn’t realize he’d noticed the small slip. Against code, he felt himself sharing unnecessarily, “Knew a Tamry once.”

“Oh? Ex lover?” She asked, taking the opening he’d given.

“Of a sort. Later, a Guild traitor. Had to kill her.” He watched her eyes go wide, pulling her lips in tight.

A few long moments of awkward silence passed. Yska swallowed, eyeing his blasters and blades inconspicuously as if to cement what she already knew. He was a warrior. He’d killed. He was dangerous. And...he’d bought her.

When Yska felt she’d schooled her features, she ventured again, “Will you tell me _your_ name now?”

“No,” his speaker rumbled deeply without feeling.

“Why not?” she asked with confusion.

“Because this is The Way.” She didn’t understand what he meant, but wasn’t confident to press him on it.

“Then, what should I call you?” Yska put her chilled hands in her coat pockets.

“Sir is preferred. Mando can be fine under the right circumstances.”

They rounded the corner and came to a docking bay. He’d scheduled maintenance and refueling for his ship while he’d stayed at the brothel. It seemed as if the crew had just finished. A grease-stained Iktochi sauntered up, wiping his hands on a rag. “Your fuel injectors needed a good flush and I fixed the leak in your hydro jack. She’s all set, Mando.” He wiped his forehead, unintentionally smearing a sooty smudge.

“Thank you,” the Mandalorian nodded and transferred some credits to the mechanic from his forearm panel.

“Pleasure doin’ business with ya, Mando,” the Iktochi grinned. “Oh, hey, can I have your ear for a moment?”

The Mandalorian followed him a few feet away silently where the two men shared a private exchange. Yska shuffled her feet awkwardly, shifting her rucksack. There were flashes of welding torches in the distance as other mechanics tuned parked crafts, masculine shouts reverberating on metal surfaces. She looked at the ship a small ways off. Her new home. It was larger than she’d expected.

The Mandalorian returned to her side momentarily.

“We’ll take off when our goods arrive.” He put his hand on her lower back, nudging her in the direction of the ship.

Curiosity got the better of her, and she mumbled, “Why did the mechanic pull you away?”

“That’s not really your concern, is it?” It was more of a statement than a question.

“Sorry, sir.” She ducked her head.

* * *

Even though they were widely mistrusted, Iktochi’s were renowned for having reliable premonitions.

The mechanic’s smile had had a mischievous, knowing twinkle when he’d pulled the warrior away.

The Mandalorian didn’t want to tell the young human the premonition the Iktochi had shared: “If you treat that young girl well...she’ll lead you to your richest reward yet.”

* * *

Hit subscribe to be notified of updates. I try to post on Fridays.

Star Wars takes place in a very technologically advanced society. I feel they would have things like replicators. Even _we_ have 3D printers than can make everything from food to houses - that’s just the first step to having full on replicators, and we aren’t nearly as advanced. So yes, they _would_ have replicators.

I’ll try my best to be regular. I’m riding the inspiration wave. I respond to all reviews/comments. I’m also in the process of transferring all my [FanFiction.Net](http://FanFiction.Net) stories over to this account, so drop them some love in the meantime!

Updated 9/3/2020


	3. The Rules

**Recap:** The Mandalorian bought out Yska’s contract and she became his property. They purchased some supplies before heading to his ship, where a precognitive mechanic gave him a word of advice.

**Dedication:** To fellow xenophiliacs, Leda K. and FanficFreak9000(DJ) for your lovely encouragements! And for DarthPenguin, because your name cracks me up. Here’s an extra long chapter to make up for not posting last week. My husband and I are moving to a new state, so there could be a stretch between updates until we get more settled.

**The Mandalorian’s Reward**

**By Scarlet Willows**

**Chapter Three - The Rules**

The inside of the Mandalorian’s ship was metallic and utilitarian. And cold. Yska shivered, snuggling further into her new coat. She couldn’t recall a space more drab and unwelcoming...and she’d grown up in an orphanage! She clutched her bag strap tighter.

“Where should I put my stuff...sir?”

The towering commando looked around. He hadn’t thought this through. And that was unusual for him. His brows furrowed underneath his helmet. He gestured her to follow him through the cockpit, up through the common area and the galley, and finally to his sleeping quarters. He swallowed. He hadn’t shared his sleeping quarters since.... He shook the thought away. That was a long time ago.

The dilemma became apparent immediately. If she were to share his quarters constantly, he wouldn’t have a private place to take his helmet off. He’d have to remedy that...and quickly.

“You’ll share my room. Just until I can set up a space for you.” He nodded in the direction of a small dresser.

Yska crossed the room to a chest of drawers. “Here?” She double-checked nervously. The Mandalorian nodded silently. She took off her coat and knelt, unpacking her few belongings into a drawer, feeling his visor on the back of her neck. She’d need more storage once their new supplies arrived. She finished quickly and stood, clutching her arms to herself. Looking anywhere - primarily the bed - other than at her new owner.

Awkward silence reigned and the Mandalorian wasn’t sure how to set the human girl at ease. He wasn't exactly practiced in the art of conversation. Part of the Code was to only speak when necessary and relevant. And part of his early upbringing stressed reservedness. He recognized most situations didn’t require his comment. It wasn’t _his_ fault if it made others uncomfortable.

But...something niggled at the back of his mind. It was the same feeling he got whenever there was an enemy sneaking up at his back or when someone was hiding something. When he’d been a child, he remembered the elders and the Mystics had had a name for this feeling, this energy. Those sensitive enough to it had gone to train with the Mystics to interpret visions. He hadn’t been strong with it as a youngling, but it had always been there with him - this feeling - and he had learned to trust it. It had saved his life more times than he could count. And now... against the Mandalorian Way, this force was telling him that it would serve him in the long run to make a _small_ effort towards the human’s comfort. With words. Without knowing why, he trusted in his intuition. It whispered to him that Yska would be in his life for a while, so...the gesture could go a long way in helping her adjust.

“This is the fresher,” he motioned to the door on his right. He looked her up and down, taking a guess that she’d never been off world before asking, “Have you used a sonar cleanser?”

“What’s that?” Yska cocked her head, eyes resting on a spot below his visor. She felt uneasy making “eye contact” with a non-face.

His guess proved correct. “On small ships, water must be reserved for drinking and cooking. It’s common to find sonar “showers” on space vessels. It cleans you and any of your clothes with sound waves. You don’t even need to undress.”

“What? How?” She asked in surprise, peeking into the small fresher unit.

The Mandalorian began to remove his cloak, draping it on the rather large mattress. “The way I understand it, the sound vibrations shake off debris and bacteria on a microscopic level. Do you need to use it now?”

When Yska pulled her head out of the curious white stall, she noticed he’d begun removing most of his weapons and belts to join his cloak on the massive bed. He’d kept a single blaster at his hip. Her heart skipped a beat. She had hoped he’d give her a bit more time to settle before....

Yska bit her lip. Last night had felt great, but, if she were honest, she was a teeny bit sore. He had over sixteen inches in height and about a hundred and fifty pounds of muscle over her - he had not been small by any means in other areas.

“I, uh...I showered last night, after....”

The Mandalorian watched the girl’s cheeks color attractively. He watched her squirm and rub her arms. He watched her glance furtively at the bed.

His visor scanner showed her heart rate spike. She had, no doubt, misinterpreted him getting comfortable. And as tempted as he was to take her there and then, as repressed as he was, even _he_ was emotionally sensitive enough to recognize her fear. While he deeply desired her coy submission...the next time, he wanted to see what she was like when relaxed. 

He sighed, setting his weapons in a small safe by the bed. “Have you had morning meal yet? I bought some food to go.”

Yska shook her head. She breathed a sigh of relief.

* * *

Yska followed the Mandalorian to the galley. He motioned for her to sit at the small metal dining table, and she did so silently. The commando handed the bag of take-away to a silver service droid, who began to unpack it, portioning it onto plates and storing the leftovers into the cooler.

Her mouth started salivating when the plate was set in front of her and Yska began to dig in with gusto. Tondah hadn’t allowed so much food in one sitting...so the girls stayed thin. Yska wasn’t starved, per se, but...she hadn’t felt full in months. She was nearly halfway through her meal when she realized the Mandalorian hadn’t sat down.

_Oh, no_. He probably wouldn’t want her to eat him out of house and home and possibly lose her slender figure...like Tondah. Was he disappointed she hadn’t waited for his permission? Would he want her to wait for him? With so many uncertainties about his expectations, Yska felt stifled with nerves. Her cheeks heated as she set her cutlery down, eyes filling with shame. “Sorry, sir,” she mumbled.

“Why?” He cocked his head.

“I...I should have waited. I’m sure you wouldn’t want me to...lose my figure. I promise I have manners. And I’ll portion better.” She hung her head, whispering the last part, “I was just so hungry.”

“Yska!” Such sternness filled the Mandalorian’s voice that she flinched, eyes snapping up. “I’ll not tolerate shame around food while you are under my care. I don’t know what your life was like in that brothel, but _here_ , you will eat nutritious food until you are satisfied, do you understand?” She nodded automatically, even while the words were still sinking in. Having seen first-hand the effects of starvation during his travels, he would not let that happen to any charge of his. Little made him angrier, faster. “It is obvious that you are a bit malnourished and I fully expect you to gain some healthy weight. Do not fret over that. This will ensure that you’ll have the energy to keep up with me.”

A second passed before his words hit her squarely and she blushed even harder. The Mandalorian turned to the droid and commanded, “Make sure Yska has a constant supply of healthy food.”

“Yes, sir,” it responded mechanically.

He turned his gaze on her and Yska could feel the heat of it even through the impetus of the helmet. “You’ll come to _me_ for treats.” The Mandalorian took his plate of food and exited the room.

Yska wondered if her blush would ever fade around this man. She cursed her fair skin.

A minute passed as Yska listened to his footsteps fade. “He...he’s not going to eat with me?” She asked the droid, ignoring the pang of disappointment as she settled on the humanoid shape of the robot.

“As a Mandalorian, he will not show his face to a living being until he has found something more valuable than The Code. Meals are a solitary event since it requires the helmet to be removed,” the droid explained in a gender-neutral voice as it sanitized the counter.

“Oh, yes, I...forgot. I...I don’t know what I expected,” she mumbled, feeling a twinge of disappointment while taking another bite of her meal. Blue eyes glanced at the doorway. “I’m Yska, by the way. What are you called?”

“I am SD-100, a class three service droid. I am programmed to maintain environmental cleanliness, prepare meals based on your species’ nutritional needs, run errands, maintain stock, and aid in basic everyday tasks.”

“Well, thank you, SD-100.” Yska chewed thoughtfully, brows scrunching. “Hmm...that name sounds so clinical and clunky. SD.... Do you mind if I call you...Sid?”

“If that is your preference, Yska. I have never gone by another moniker before.”

“Well, _Sid_ it is, then! Tell me, Sid, are there any other...crew members? How long have you served the Mandalorian?” She took a sip of water that the droid had placed in front of her.

“There is a medical droid and two astromech droids. There are no other biological crew members at this time. And I have been in service to my master for fifty-seven years, ten months, and two days.”

Yska’s mouth dropped open. The Mandalorian...he was much older than she’d thought. But, perhaps that was young for his species? The blue skin that she’d briefly seen last night had meanthe obviously wasn’t human...unless he was completely tattooed, but that seemed unlikely. “How...how old is he?” She ventured curiously. The Mandalorian didn’t seem like the talkative type, but if she could get a little information from the droid, that might help her.

“My master is two hundred eighteen standard revolutions,” the droid intoned flatly as it pulled some fresh vegetables and meat from the cooler. It began to chop everything neatly and evenly, preparing a slow roast for later that evening. Her brows shot into her blonde hairline. Yska was only a scant nineteen revolutions in comparison.

“What’s his species and where is he from? Do you know his name?” She asked, barely able to contain her curiosity as the words tripped over her lips.

“You do not currently have clearance for that information.”

The droid turned around and took her empty plate for cleaning. It was then that she noticed the Mandalorian leaning in the doorway, arms folded over his chest. Her stomach tied itself in knots. He’d heard her pestering his droid for information that he had himself denied her. What were the repercussions? Would he punish her? Would he hurt her? She wrung her hands in her lap as she hung her head, hiding behind vanilla bangs.

“Come, Yska,” the Mandalorian commanded flatly. “Let us talk.”

* * *

The human found herself sitting on a rather firm couch in what she assumed was the common area. It was metallic and gray and devoid of any personality. Fingers twisted in the hem of her overly long sleeves. The commando sat across from her, leaning forward on his knees, which brought him _almost_ to her height.

Even shaking, she whispered, “I’m sorry, sir,” hoping that would curtail any wrath.

The warrior sighed through his helmet speaker, looking briefly to the side. He’d spoken more in the last twenty hours than he had in the last year! And he didn’t foresee that slowing any time soon. His acquisition was already proving to be more distracting and...catalyzing than he’d anticipated.

He didn’t want her to fear him, per se, but he also couldn’t have her causing problems. She’d obviously had it hard and, because of that, he needed to handle her more gently than he was used to. Strangely...he actually _wanted_ to put her at ease...but, he also needed to drive his point home.

“Yska...I understand that you are...curious.” He began, voice deep and authoritative. “That’s natural. But when I choose not to give you an answer, I expect you to respect my word. Under my care, my word is law, and I expect you to treat it as such.”

Yska nodded a little too quickly, eyes wide. “Y-yes, sir. Of course. It won’t happen again.”

“We’ll see that it doesn’t.”

He began to rise and Yska flinched, turning as if she expected to be struck. He froze. Yes, he was a bounty hunter and mercenary, a violent business by nature, but he’d never been violent to innocents or those that meant him no harm. “Yska...do you think I’m going to hurt you now?”

Yska drew her knees to her chest and nodded sadly, eyes flitting away once more. The Mandalorian sat back down, noticing the fine tremor to her tiny frame. That intuition pushed at him again. “Perhaps...we should establish some...rules.” At least that brought her eyes back to his visor. “Would that ease your mind?”

“Yes,” she whispered with a voice that cracked. His chest clenched as she looked up at him with big eyes from under pale tresses.

He sighed. He had definitely not planned this out. And he’d always had a plan. This was so unlike him. But...he decided to rely on that feeling again and...to follow his passion. The elders would have been disappointed, to say the least.

“First, I need you to know that I will never be violent with you, Yska. You are under my protection now and that means I take your safety seriously. I may be rough but, I don’t hurt innocents. This is my Code. Do you understand?”

Her shoulders relaxed from around her ears by increments. “Yes,” she responded quietly.

“‘Yes’, what?” His brow quirked under his helmet.

“Yessir,” she piped up quickly.

“Good girl,” his eyes narrowed. “That being said, I will never intentionally harm you. _If_ I feel like you’ve defied me to the point of requiring a punitive response,” he sat straighter, a few moments passing while he contemplated thoughtfully, “then...I may take you over my knee. Redden your sweet, little ass. Or I may take you more... _selfishly_ in the bedroom. It might scare you. And you probably won’t like it. It wouldn’t be a deterrent otherwise.” He leaned forward again, elbows on his knees, gloved fingers steepled. “However...nothing I do to you will ever leave lasting harm. I mean this mentally as well as physically. And...I will always ensure that after the punishment is carried out, I will give you pleasure and comfort.”

Some silence passed as he leveled Yska with his visor, watching her pale blue eyes shift as she processed his words. Even though the thought of bending Yska over his lap to administer a good spank got him _fucking_ hard, he could tell the thought of pain didn’t excite her. He’d always liked a little pain...and so had most of his partners. Perhaps it was his primal warrior side. But a part of him whispered it was due to his...defection. He shook his head. They’d cross that bridge if they came to it.

Yska inhaled as if to ask a question, but then abruptly changed her mind. If it was pertinent, he needed to know. “Go ahead. Ask.”

“Um...what...what would...get me in trouble? Sir,” she tacked on quickly.

He smirked. “You mean, how would you _avoid_ punishment? Or would you _like_ a hard spank now and again?”

He smiled as her eyes went wide, like he knew they would. She shook her head quickly, pulling her knees closer. “N-no, I...I want to avoid that.”

The Mandalorian hummed to avoid an outright chuckle. He’d have plenty of time to teach her about unconventional pleasures, but for now, her purity was alluring. He looked to the side for a moment before turning back to the anxious girl. “Yska...I know you’re young. I expect you to make mistakes. That’s part of learning. I would not punish you for something natural. It is important to me that I see you making a sincere effort to try, or ask for help, even if you make mistakes. I will teach you when necessary, and admonish you with a warning before jumping to the extreme. You will know if and when you are on the path to a punitive action. If you are _willfully_ defiant, disrespectful, or seek to harm yourself in some way - these are grounds for punishment. If you are disloyal and seek to bring me or my property harm, then...I will find you a new master. One who...may not take your wellbeing as seriously as I do. Am I clear?”

“Crystal, sir,” Yska nodded, jaw set, eyes determined. “Those seem like fair terms. I...will not give you a reason to go so far.”

The Mandalorian could feel warmth spread in his chest...and he set his intention to ignore it. “Good girl. You don’t strike me as the type that would.”

“Sir...may...may I speak freely?” Yska ventured, biting her bottom lip.

“Unless we are in the presence of others, and unless I state otherwise...I would prefer you to speak freely, Yska,” the Mandalorian leaned back, legs crossed, an arm stretched along the back of his seat.

Yska’s body language was more free. She wasn’t clutching to her knees any longer, but had tucked them comfortably to the side while she twirled a strand of her ponytail, delicate fingers peeking out from oversized sleeves. Still nervous, but less on guard. “What are your expectations from me? And what are my duties exactly? I would assume they are... _sexual_ ,” her voice dropped shyly, “but...what else do I do in the meantime?”

The Mandalorian considered for some moments before responding. What else did he want her for? Why _had_ he bought her? Sure, he found her beautiful and the sex had been great. Amazing, actually. And he definitely wanted more of it. But...other than feeling sorry for her (which was most unusual for him), and giving in to that mysterious intuition...he didn’t know how to answer that question. Maybe...maybe it was because he’d been alone for a long time. And maybe, deep down, he didn’t want to be alone anymore. Maybe he wanted someone to care for. Maybe he just hadn’t wanted to see such beautiful potential sucked dry by the cruelty of others. He didn’t know.

He took a calming breath, releasing those unnecessary emotions. “I expect you...I expect you to pursue an interest on your free time. Build a skill. You have free use of the ship, except for the cockpit or my quarters when the door is closed. It’s a decent ship and I expect you to find something to do around here to entertain yourself...as long as it doesn’t jeopardize or interfere with my work.” He shifted in his seat, uncrossing his legs and spreading his thighs. His head tilted as he watched the human, his modulated voice dropping an octave. “I expect you to follow all my orders. I will never order you to do something unsafe. Though...I may order you to do something outside your comfort zone from time to time. But, I will ensure that you will enjoy it in the end. We’ll start slow and small, but...I expect you...to service me when I ask...and in the way I tell you.”

Was it Yska’s imagination that his voice had gone softer, more...husky? She shuddered. Nervous arousal filled her, confusing her senses. Her stomach dropped out from under her as the Mandalorian stood and switched to sit beside her on the couch. He ran a gloved hand up her tucked calf. Yska’s breath sped up, unresistant as the commando slowly pulled her leg straight, opening up her thighs and angling her hips toward him. He had planned to wait, to let her get more settled in, but...his cock was too hard to ignore. “I expect you...,” he ran his hand up her leg to her inner thigh, so close to the apex of her heat, “to find pleasure with me.”

She inhaled sharply as he cupped her through her thin leggings. Her brows furrowed and Yska bit her bottom lip as the Mandalorian gripped her pussy possessively. Her heart leaped into her throat and she swallowed anxiously. He’d been gentle the last time and had just promised he wouldn’t intentionally hurt her. He wanted her to enjoy it, too. Hadn’t she wished just last night that he’d whisk her away from her life? She tried to swallow down her insecurities.

The Mandalorian leaned over her, supporting his weight against the armrest behind her, and Yska laid back into the couch cushions. She wasn’t sure what to do with her arms, so she kept them close to her chest as she shivered in the cold room.

He spoke again, his deep, aching voice making her throb as much as his hand. “I expect you to be honest in all things. I want you to tell me when you need something. I want you to tell me if something feels good.”

The Mandalorian ran his hand behind and under Yska’s ass and gripped the back of her pants, pulling them over her plush behind. He pulled until her leggings pooled around her bent knees, exposing her lower half. With her boots still on and the pants trapping her legs together, Yska could do little but hug her knees to her chest as the commando rubbed her through her panties. She bit her lip and hid her head in the side of her shoulder.

The Mandalorian leaned even closer, his helmet level with her delicate ear. An ear he wanted so badly to worry between his teeth. So, he settled for whispering in it instead, pouring out all his repressed desires. “I want to find all the ways to open you up for me.” His cock strained in his pants as he felt her tender folds through her intimates. He nearly ripped his glove off to feel her better...and he practically purred in his chest when he felt a little misty dew spread along the material of her underthings. His breath stuttered. “I want to find all the ways to make you wet for me, little human.”

Yska moaned quietly, knuckles pressed to her lips as the Mandalorian rubbed her throbbing heat. She mewled when he shifted his support from the armrest to underneath her head, his hand gripping the base of her ponytail. He was closer now, only inches from her body, and...it nearly distracted her from the fact that he’d pulled her panties to the side to slip a finger in. Yska’s mouth dropped open in the shape of a little “o”, a high, uncontrolled keening streaming from far back in her throat. A few slow thrusts had Yska reeling, unaware that he’d let his aching cock out...until she felt it’s tip dribbling precum against her entrance.

He spread her little slit open with his finger, slowly but firmly pushing his swollen thickness inside as she gasped. He shuddered with every inch, allowing her time to adjust. She was miraculously slick enough, even if her noises were a little hesitant. He kept his thrusts agonizingly slow. “You’re doing so well, Yska.” He rested the forehead of his helmet against her’s. “See, you’re so wet for me that...you’re precious little slit is just sucking me in,” he groaned through a smile. He hadn’t smiled so wide in a long time. Yska mewled, her eyes screwed tight, a light sweat forming on her brow. “What a good girl you are for me.”

He could feel his passions bubbling so close to the surface, leaking out through his words. Yet...strangely, he couldn’t bring himself to feel ashamed. It felt...right. What was it about this girl...? He’d analyze that later.

“How do you feel, Yska?” He whispered earnestly between panting breaths.

“F-full,” she stuttered, biting her bottom lip red. “Good,” she breathed softly, surprised to find that statement true. Even though she was less than comfortable. She was folded in half, legs hanging awkwardly to the side, and his cold beskar kept digging into her knees with each thrust. The couch was a little stiff and there wasn’t much room to maneuver. In fact, the large warrior only had one leg bent on the sofa while the other propped him up from the floor. But...even feeling a bit rushed and squished...it was perfect.

He was as sensual and gentle as he’d been the night before. Yska could feel his urgency, ache, and desire for her permeate the very air. He had saved her from untold atrocities and was offering her a new life. She felt wanted and cared for - even if it was just a little bit - for the first time in her life. It was perfect.

His thrusts quickened slightly. His hand on her hip trailed its way to her sensitive mound, thumbing her clit rhythmically with his thrusts. He smiled to himself as he felt Yska’s hips squirm for more contact, her insides grip him tighter, her mewls turn to moans.

He wanted so badly to gather her hair in his hand and press long kisses to her forehead, to tilt her chin up to align with his lips...to make them one. His lips tingled. He was cumming before he knew what was happening. “ _Fuuuck_ ,” he growled as it ripped through his entire body, bruising her hips in his hands as he poured...and poured...and poured.

His breath came in ragged gulps. He hadn’t cum that hard in a very long time. He shook his head from the daze as he regained his senses.

Yska was looking up at him worriedly. “Are...are you alright, sir?”

The Mandalorian couldn’t help the elated chuckle that filled his words, drunk on pleasure, “I am beyond well, little human.” Slowly, he caressed her face...still fighting with that forbidden urge to kiss her. “Let’s get you off now.” He rose up and brought his naked thumb to her lips. “Lick.”

Yska’s eyes darted to it, trying to etch into memory the shade of his blue skin, and those monochromatic lines with bursts of yellow. And...those curious symbols on his fingernails. At first glance, she thought they might be bruises, but, as she sucked his thumb into her mouth, she realized they were tattoos. Simple, just a few lines and dots but, decidedly intentional.

She would have given a better performance with her tongue if he hadn’t seemed a tad impatient. He eagerly brought the saliva-slick digit down to her clit, working her fast and hard. The human gasped and moaned and squirmed as he pushed his still-hard cock inside her. More of a caress than an actual thrust. Yska’s young body wound tight as a bowstring. Poised to snap. The Mandalorian knew his little human was in the throws of pleasure when he felt her channel squeeze around him and her voice hitch. He moaned as her body unintentionally milked out his last drops as he tipped her over the edge.

Panting and shaking and on the verge of overwhelmed tears, any relaxing aftermath Yska would have enjoyed was interrupted when she noticed Sid, the droid, standing a few paces away. “Oh, kriff!” She grabbed onto the Mandalorian’s chest plate as his hand reflexively rested on his holster.

The warrior relaxed when he saw it was just the SD unit, but his voice was annoyed. “What is it?

“I’ve come to alert you that your deliveries have arrived in the cargo bay. After I unload, would you like me to initiate the pre-flight checklist?”

“Yes,” he fought not to roll his eyes. Even though they couldn’t be seen, he still wouldn’t indulge in a juvenile habit. “And SD...barring an emergency...next time...wait outside the room until we are finished.”

“Understood, sir. I will endeavor to avoiding interrupting coitus in the future.” The silver robot turned around and clanked out of the room.

Yska blushed. She had to have been making some loud sounds to have covered the android’s metallic gait. Either that, or she’d been _really_ into it. Both were likely true.

The Mandalorian sat up fully and began to reluctantly pull out of his human’s tight slit. He was still a little hard and he was mesmerized as he watched his cock emerge from her, amazed she’d been able to fit him in her tiny body. Watching himself spill out of her in a thick white stream had him aching. If he’d had time, he would have taken her again, pushing his seed back into her pinkness with the blunt head of his blue cock. He could watch that contrast for ages.

“Don’t look,” she mewled with embarrassment, her cheeks flushed and hair mussed. “Please...?”

“Why not?” He cocked his head, charmed by her coyness.

“Because it’s...messy,” Yska scrunched her nose up cutely, trying to cover herself.

He leaned back in, his naked hand enveloping her throat, helmet inches from her face. She gasped, eyes wide, throat swallowing reflexively. He wasn’t squeezing, but it wasn’t exactly gentle. He smirked...and he made sure she could hear it in his voice. “You think I don’t like seeing what I put there? If I want to fuck you full of my cum...just to watch you drip all day long...I will.”

Yska nodded her head too quickly, body shivering, confused with fear and arousal.

He wanted to punctuate his point by pulling her quivering lip into his mouth. But, he settled for moving his hand from her neck and thumbing across that glistening lip instead. He sighed, pressing his helmet to her forehead. Hoping the gesture eased her nerves. “Now be my good girl and go clean up,” he patted the side of her ass.

Yska shimmied awkwardly into her underwear and leggings before walking carefully out of the room to the fresher.

The Mandalorian felt his cheeks warm, a second smile playing at the corners of his lips as he watched her flared hips sway. Knowing she was holding him inside her. The elders would chide him for his weakness.

The SD unit returned to the room with a cleansing wipe, which the commando accepted silently. He eyed the damp spot on the couch as he cleaned and tucked himself back into his breeches. The SD unit had already brought cleaning supplies, silently working on removing the evidence.

The Mandalorian took a look around his ship, deciding he’d be giving his droid reason to clean _far_ more often.

* * *

Hit subscribe or check for updates every other Friday evening. There could be some wait time as my husband and I are uprooting to a new state over the next couple months, but I will try to stay regular. Hugs!

Updated 9/3/2020


	4. The Gifts

**Recap** : The Mandalorian showed Yska around his ship, laid out some rules, assured her of her safety, and then fucked her on his couch. All a little too unplanned for his liking.  
  


 **Dedication** : HeavyHearts, Leia66, and Selena_101 for dropping some love. THANKS TO EVERYONE FOR OVER 2000 hits!

Readers, you should check out these amazing Mandalorian fics: “Starved” by Theliesmithsdaughter, “Blindfold” by silentfort, and the “River Is Everywhere” by beers4fears. Their characterizations and descriptions are delicious and will leave you breathless.

** The Mandalorian’s Reward **

** By Scarlet Willows **

** Chapter Four - The Gifts**

“Yska...you may join me in the cockpit,” the Mandalorian offered.

She popped her head around the corner of the open doorway. “But...I thought you said I wasn’t allowed in here...?”

“Not without me, no.” He turned back to his console, flipping switches and priming the engines.

The girl hesitantly settled into the chair next to him, chewing on her lip, and tucking a leg under her. As he steered them into the sky, he glanced at her soft face as she watched the clouds fade away into the darkness of space. An innocent smile spread over those delectable coral lips, genuine and beautiful. So beautiful that it made his chest ache. That something so simple could light up her face like that.... And that he had done that for her.... He had to look away.

“I’ve never been off-world!” She turned to him gleefully, momentarily forgetting her wariness of him. “I mean,” she turned back, pressing her fingers to the window, voice full of awe, “...I’d dream.”

His chest warmed. His lips tingled.

He was being foolish, sentimental. Letting his passions get the better of him. Maybe his defection was taking more of a toll than once projected. There were no accounts of the consequences of interrupting the Rite of Ardor, after all. Or at least, none that he’d come across. Perhaps...perhaps he should see if answers could be found at his home world, sooner rather than later...even if it was haunted by ghosts of his past.

But first, Makeb.

He typed the coordinates into the console and made the jump to hyperspace.

Yska stifled a quiet gasp. He watched her from the corner of his visor, picking up on her whisper, “It looks like nighttime snow on the windshield.” He said nothing as she watched the stars pass them by for the first time, mapping the way the lights reflected in her eyes. The light made her pale angles all the more ethereal. Her question snapped him out of his reverie: “So...where are we going?”

“Planet Makeb. The Hutt Cartel and the Republic are vying for control over the valuable mineral deposits. I picked up an Avesta Mining Corporation spy before meeting you yesterday. An old cartel contact wants him very badly.” He leveled her with his gaze. “Conflict makes for good money and the Hutts pay well.”

“Oh,” Yska’s stomach churned uncomfortably. Why did Makeb sound familiar? Why did the name instill dread? And why did she have a bad feeling about him doing this job? She’d known he was a bounty hunter and that it was dangerous work, of course. But...an uncomfortable thought struck her. “Um...,” she started, before doubt stopped her.

“Speak,” he said flatly, clicking some buttons and taking read-outs.

“What if...what if you get hurt? What will happen to me?”

He stopped what he was doing and turned to face her. “Yska. I have been doing this over two hundred years now. I am very skilled at what I do, so you needn’t worry about my safety or yours. However,” he looked to the side, quickly weighing his options before speaking, “If, in the _unlikely_ event that something unfortunate happens...all my property, you included, would go to the head of my clan. My clan is fair and the Code demands that they would look after any of my charges. You would not be destitute.”

He turned back to the console and the knot in Yska’s stomach loosened by a thread. Although, the thought of something happening to him left a sour taste in her mouth. Even though she didn’t know him very well, he’d been kind and she didn’t wish ill on him. If only he didn’t have to trek into danger...on Makeb....

Another thought seized her.

“Forgive me if this is a rude question, sir, but.... If you’ve been doing this for so long, don’t you have enough credits saved up to retire? You said earlier that money was no object....” She bit her lip, not sure if her position was secure enough to probe so deeply. But the curiosity was burning.

He shot her a look, raising a brow under his helm. A little impressed by her boldness, he decided to reward her with some truth. “Indeed, money is no object for me anymore. Hasn’t been for a long time. I could have retired five times over by now.”

“Then...why continue? Why not go home and settle in luxury?”

The Mandalorian pursed his lips. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to encourage her prying, but he answered, regardless. “As a Mandalorian, I have no home. I own no lands. I go on until I value something greater than the Code.”

“So...you don’t want to settle down someday? Have a wife and family?” She cocked her head, the picture of naivety.

He looked at her then, and long moments passed. Enough so that the silence made the young girl squirm. With a deliberately level voice, he commanded, “That’s enough for today, human.”

Yska nodded quickly, a tremor in her bones, “Yessir. Sorry, sir.” She regretted her overly curious mind.

The atmosphere had turned cold and no amount of huddling could keep her in that cockpit...even if the stars were beautiful.  
  


* * *

“Yska,” Sid called to her softly. After the medical droid had given her a clean bill of health and installed the Mesh birth control system, Yska had curled up on the couch with her coat as a blanket. She hadn’t known what else to do, regretting that she hadn’t at least bought a book along with her new clothes. She’d been afraid of being a further nuisance or taking up too much space. But she startled at the robotic voice. “Yska, dinner is ready.”

It was a simple affair of meat and vegetable stew that she savored alone at the table. She would have used a few more spices, but it was satisfying and hearty fare. And she felt full without allowing guilt to follow the small joy.

She sighed, rubbing her flat stomach contentedly.

She decided to get a layout of the ship while she had the chance. She could take it all in without feeling scrutinized. The Mandalorian _had_ said she had free rein....

She’d already seen the captain’s quarters, galley, and common room - the latter hadn’t been much to write home about - especially from the view from her back. Maybe he wouldn’t mind if she put a woman’s touch to it eventually - it could actually be hospitable then. Even just a couple plants would make that recycled air feel fresher and pleasant.

She ambled down the corridor, passing panels with buttons and switches. A short walk brought her to an empty room that appeared to have been gutted some time ago. A few bolts and bits of metal seems to have been forcefully ripped...or partially pried...from their bearings. Blaster scoring marked parts of the floor and walls. “The crew’s quarters.”

Yska jumped. Sid had appeared out of nowhere, offering explanation. She patted her chest and exhaled a sigh of relief. “Announce yourself a bit earlier next time, would ya?” She shook her head.

“Pardon me. I will endeavor to make more noise next time to alert you to my presence.”

“Thanks,” Yska turned back to the gutted room. There were a couple crates in the corner and a few scraps, but her eyes were drawn to those black smudges and jagged pieces of metal reaching out like claws. “What did you say this room was used for?”

“Crews’ quarters. Bed bunks used to be bolted here and here,” Sid dispassionately pointed to the jagged metal. “Thirty-five years ago, my master employed a biological crew. Five team members. Four slept in here.”

“Where did the fifth member sleep?” She asked, wondering if there was another room on board.

“With my master,” Sid answered mechanically. _Oh_.

“So...what happened to the crew?” She ventured into the room, noticing a door to a small fresher tucked to the left...but, eyeing those blaster scars with a pit in her stomach.

“My master’s companion, the first mate, had plotted to steal my master’s life savings for some months. She led the mutiny. A Deveronian pulled the bunks clear from their bolts to use as cover in the ensuing fight. They nearly succeeded and they almost took over the ship.”

“ _Almost_ ,” came the Mandalorian’s deep bass from the doorway.

Yska spun around, but kept her whits this time. “Something tells me they _aren’t_ rotting in a jail cell for it.”

He made a sound that could have been a stifled laugh, but was easily covered by clearing his throat. He neither confirmed or denied, just replied with a simple, “Hmm.” Was that a touch of amusement in his vocoder? Perhaps pride?

He shifted from leaning against the threshold to asserting his presence in the room. It seemed smaller suddenly, even as Sid made it’s exit. “I was thinking...after I turn in my bounty on Makeb, we could get this room set up for you,” he gestured nonchalantly, shifting something under his arm.

She looked around the plain metal walls, only seeing potential. She’d never had her own room; growing up in an orphanage, her brief stint with Dex, and finally a dorm at the brothel. Her own space was a foreign concept...and something she would relish more than words could express. “Thank you, sir,” she ventured a small smile. He stood straighter, visor turning to the floor momentarily. His feet shuffled slightly. Yska was oblivious to the warrior’s shift in energy as she envisioned her ideal room. “When will we make it to Makeb?”

“Three days, if all goes smoothly. Five at most. Oh,” the Mandalorian extended his hand, offering the object he’d brought with him. Her eyebrows lifted. It was a datapad. “Had this laying around. It’s outdated, but I thought it might bring you some entertainment. Has some vids, music, books, and games on it.” He shrugged.

Growing up in a backwater orphanage on a nothing-special planet, datapads were expensive and therefore hard to come by. Only the head nun had had one for business. There was a time Yska would have given her left arm for one - all of the orphans would have - just to watch a simple holovid.

New clothes, food, her own space, _and_ a datapad...when she’d briefly wished the Mandalorian would rescue her from that brothel, she hadn’t dared imagine he’d be so benevolent. Her eyes shimmered as she held onto the gift. “Sir...you are more generous than you know. Thank you for showing me kindness.”

“This isn’t kindness,” he stated flatly. “This is basic decency. I am simply meeting your chiefneeds. And I’m sorry you’ve lived such a life where it is hard to tell the difference.”

“Well, in my experience, it _is_ kindness because...you didn’t have to do all this.I heard the other prostitutes talk.... I’d accepted pain was likely my fate. Nowhere have I lived where I was encouraged to eat my fill or to find a hobbie or given new clothes.” She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “I know I don’t know you, sir...,” she focused her gaze on a loose thread in her oversized sleeve. “For all I know, you could be hiding cruel intentions, but...I get the feeling you are the honorable warrior you appear to be.” Yska glanced up at the Mandalorian hesitantly. “Although, my track record for judging character is pretty piss poor,” she chuckled self-depreciatively with a shrug. “The last guy I trusted sold me into this life.”

“What was his name?”

“Dex.” Yska’s young eyes clouded, her voice dropping low as she hung her head. “He said he cared about me.” Silence stretched and Yska cleared her throat, putting on a fake smile, waving her words away dismissively with a nervous laugh. “Sorry to bother you. I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”

The Mandalorian was quiet for a few moments as he chose his words carefully and Yska started to regret opening her mouth...before the commando slowly, gently laid his gloved hand on her shoulder. As if he were soothing a startled animal. His thumb moved to her jaw, tilting her chin up to face his visor. “If I found it bothersome, I would not have asked. Yska...I understanding you are trying to come to terms with this situation. Today has been...abrupt.” He tilted his head, voice softer. “Trust is intrinsic to comfort, and I’m sure in time we will find our footing with each other. When that happens, there are things I will teach you about unconventional pleasures...but nothing like the pain you imagine. I, too, have heard and seen my share of horrors and I admit with no small amount of satisfaction that I have disposed of more than my fair share of cruel men.” He cupped her cheek in his large hand, indulging this unfamiliar urge to nurture for once. “And I am not this Dex. I do not harm or betray those I care about.” He shifted his weight into her space so she had to crane her neck to look up at him as he wove gloved fingers into her vanilla locks. “And I plan to accustom you to such a level of comfort...that you will be unable to accept anything less than what you rightfully deserve. Do you understand?”

Her eyes glistened and her throat tightened and all the young woman could do was nod mutely.

The Mandalorian had no doubt that he hadn’t heard the worst of her past. He was under no illusions that he could know this girl after a mere day and a half. But _he_ was a good judge of character and he knew without a doubt that she was an innocent soul. His intuition told him Yska’s demureness was not an act. How such a soul had survived a life that was likely worse than the snippets she’d shared was beyond him. It spoke to her great level of strength that she’d remained gentle in a life that had been designed to harden most. He certainly could not make the same claim.

And while her gentleness and submission made him stiff between his cuisses, he was unsettled. Submission borne of fear was not something he truly wanted. At least...not as a default. That intuitive part of himself wanted to pull her out of her fear and see where her true inclination lay; if beneath that fear lay a fiery disposition. If Yska would still submit to him even after she found and nurtured her strength....

His lips tingled.

What was it about this girl that evoked such...strange emotions?

He centered himself before refocusing on the conversation. “We can start clearing this area tomorrow, if you want,” he redirected, giving the human a few moments to collect herself.

“I’d like that,” she said, clearing her throat and blinking rapidly.

“Come, Yska. Let’s settle for the night. I’ll show you the cargo hold tomorrow.” He turned and she followed him out silently.

* * *

A couple boxes awaited them on the large bed - their purchases from earlier that morning. “Go ahead and unpack your clothes into the dresser for now,” he directed the girl while he made a beeline for the smallest box, already guessing it’s contents. Strangely, he hoped the girl would be pleased with the purchase. He unloaded it and the multiple bottles of lube into the side table drawer while Yska followed his instructions. “Let me know if you need anything. I’ll be in the common room.”

Mid-fold, shirt clutched in small hands, the human shot a quick glance at the warrior. “You’re...you’re not...staying?”

He assessed the girl silently a moment. Was that a hint of disappointment in her tone? A gleam of worry in her eyes? Perhaps relief? His brows furrowed invisibly. “I...think it would be best for both of us to have our own space right now. After we finish business in Makeb, you’ll have your own room.”

Yska slowly started to unpack the new clothes again, keeping her eyes deliberately on the task. “But...isn’t this your bed, sir? Wouldn’t it be easier if I took the couch? I’m smaller and I’ll bet you need privacy to take off your-”

“If I say you’re sleeping in this bed, then that’s what will happen. Anything else is not your concern. Do you question this?” He didn’t want her to fear him, per se, but part of the Mandalorian enjoyed watching the tiny girl shrink, even though he hadn’t intended to use such a harsh tone with a thing so delicate.

“N-no, sir,” she whispered through a trembling lip, clutching a cotton shirt to her chest.

“Then go ahead and finish with your clothes and get ready for bed.”

“Yessir,” she nodded quickly and quietly, folding as fast as she could while fighting off the tremors. Suddenly shy, she half-turned (so as not to seem like she was hiding) to hastily change out of her clothes into a nightgown. He’d seen her naked form before and he’d probably seen a lot worse, but Yska felt on edge under the commando’s unblinking, no-face stare. She took only seconds to crawl under the covers to escape the chill, glancing up at the silver warrior.

Without a word, the Mandalorian turned off the lights and left.

It was pitch black, darker than any darkness that Yska had ever known, and she fought the panic creeping up her throat, reminding herself that she wasn’t in the slave pens anymore.

* * *

Razzen-Va knew he was not a gentle person. Nor was he overly sensitive, or kind, or loquacious. He was harsh and reserved and his passions ran deep and a little dark. He knew he wasn’t the type of man that this scared little human probably needed. He knew he wanted things that could break poor, sweet Yska.

And...Razzen-Va did not want to break her.

As he sat on the couch - resigning himself to several nights in the confining, heavy armor - he berated himself for acting impulsively, roughly...passionately. He didn’t fully know what he wanted with the girl, or how to care for her, or how this might affect his work, or what he was going to do. This was completely new for him. But he did know one thing for certain:

Razzen-Va wanted to eventually see Yska find her strength.

...He just...wasn’t sure how to help anyone do that....

* * *

Hit subscribe to be notified of updates. I try to post on Friday evenings.

Thank you so much for your patience during my move! It took a lot longer than planned to get settled - and then Covid quarantine hit and the world went crazy! This chapter also did not want to cooperate and my muse kept flip-flopping! Should get more fast paced in the next couple chapters!

Updated 9/3/2020


	5. The Search

**Recap** : Yska and the Mandalorian left the port for Planet Makeb, where the Hutt Cartel and the Republic vy for control over valuable mineral deposits. She stumbled upon the previous crew’s quarters covered in blaster-scars. The Mandalorian gifted her the room and a datapad before insisting she take his bed. Readers also learned the Mandalorian’s true name - Razzen-Va.

**Dedication** : silentfort (Aaaaaahhhhhh!!! Fan-girling so hard! So glad my fic could inspire you!), DaughterOfMandalore (welcome to AO3!), Selena101, AlchemyAlters, Aeeeek, and abandonedshipss for your special encouragements! THANKS TO EVERYONE FOR OVER 3500 HITS!

**Author’s Note** : Hey lovely readers, thank you for your patience! I’m still alive! I got the quarantine blues and struggled with this chapter immensely, as well as my everyday life. I think we can all agree the world is crazy right now and we could all use some kindness and love. Hopefully this chapter finds you in good health and adds a little joy to your day!

Also, please check out _silentfort’s_ non-binary OC Alien x Mandalorian fic, “Scent”. It’s awesome!

**The Mandalorian’s Reward**

**By Scarlet Willows**

**Chapter Five - The Search**

Over the next couple days, Yska and the Mandalorian had cleared out the old crew’s quarters. Everything could be salvaged for scrap money when they docked. They’d fallen into a bit of a quiet routine while working - with Yska mustering the strength to ask a few questions about bounty hunting and the Mandalorian indulging her more than he should have.

She’d scrubbed at the blaster scars with industrial cleaner, but nothing short of paint would fix them. The fresher unit was working wonderfully even after so long without use, and only required a bit of elbow grease to shine up. All in all, it was a good space - a blank canvas that Yska was excited to make her own after they acquired supplies from Makeb.

During the night, she slept alone. During the day, she ate her meals alone. In fact, most of the time she was alone. The silver commando was usually either in the cockpit or in the cargo hold, tinkering with things. Yska was too nervous to seek out his company, afraid to disturb him or get underfoot.

In the eternal darkness of space, Yska only knew it was “nighttime” when the commando would demand her “services”. He’d taken her rough enough to make her squeal and slow enough to make her cry in frustration: on the sofa, the bed, the floor, against the wall, and recently on the kitchen counter.

Sometimes he wanted her during the “day”, too. It always seemed to catch her off-guard and make her nervous (even if she did enjoy herself), but at least she’d become better at anticipating his needs.

Without a face to read - and a reticence for speaking - Yska had begun to notice a few ticks in his body language. Nothing big or obvious to the average person, but...enough to help her navigate his moods a bit better.

The few times she’d spied him at the helm of the ship or cleaning his blasters, his actions were precise, fluid. Confident. It was the same when he went through his morning exercise katas with the efficiency of an apex predator.

But when he entered a room with Yska - conversation clipped - his actions seemed...stuttered. Shoulders rigid, left fist clenching and unclenching. She wondered if this was a nervous tick. Did...she make him as nervous as he made her?

She’d become most familiar with his body language when he wanted her. He’d sit more forward, left hand on his knee, helmet zeroed in on her. Or he would stand taller, feet shoulder-width apart, head tilted a fraction.

And after he’d gotten what he wanted...his shoulders relaxed. The swirling energy of his presence seemed less coiled. It seemed easier to talk to him then.

She was learning that his body could be as expressive as a face if she paid close enough attention. And today, it seemed like it would be a slow session where he tortured the orgasm out of her - if the panther-roll to his shoulders was any indication.

She curled further into the couch with her datapad as the perpetually-armored Mandalorian advanced. “Ohhh, none of that now, Yska.” He stopped in front of her, stance wide and towering. “Come on,” he coaxed, a tad more gentle.

Swallowing hard, she turned off her datapad, setting it aside, and began to uncurl her legs...but, apparently that was too slow for him. The Mandalorian crouched suddenly - the movement graceful even with so much armor. The warrior threaded his arms through the girl’s thighs before yanking her to the edge of the couch. She yelped.

He was impatient today. Yska braced her arms behind herself as he jerked her leggings down. He tossed them over his shoulder uncaringly.

She blushed, shoulders up to her ears as he spread her pale thighs.

From his waist pouch, he produced a sleek pink vibrator. Yska had discovered the hard way that he’d gotten an assortment of _toys_ in a separate supply box before they’d embarked. It was the same box he’d stashed in his side table drawer the first night.

Yska wasn’t sure how she felt about these sessions, even though it had only happened twice. It was always pleasurable - like he’d promised - and the end result was always mind-blowing. But, she always felt wrung out afterwards. Drained. “Maybe I _want_ you to be boneless when I’m done with you,” he’d said after she’d complained the first time.

He set the pink toy on the couch. “Relax,” he coaxed as he took his gloves off. A little thrill shot through her core. She was starting to have a Pavlovian response whenever he removed the gloves. She was always so entranced by the swirling designs on his blue skin, and those fingernail tattoos. She’d asked about them once - if they were cultural markings of his species or perhaps his victories as a warrior - but he’d responded less than favorably. She wouldn’t ask again. But it didn’t stop the burning curiosity.

She squirmed, hating feeling so exposed and on display for the warrior’s gaze. Not that it mattered. Maybe she wouldn't mind if the room were a bit warmer. Why did it have to be so frippin’ cold?!

“Mmm,” Yska bit back a moan as he grazed her sensitive petals with the back of his knuckles. The backs of his multi-hued hands were surprisingly soft - it was the palms and pads that were calloused from his trade.

He massaged her up and down with his knuckles until he felt the first signs of feminine glaze. The commando dipped a finger inside Yska’s heat, dragging out the silken slick to use on her clit. She lost the will to keep herself propped up and instead melted into the couch awkwardly, neck kinked and hands over her chest. “That’s it,” his vocoder was low and rumbly - or maybe that was just him. “Just let me take care of this.”

She moaned as his fingers drew designs on her clit. The thumb of his left hand teased her entrance, dipping in shallowly before pulling out. As a heavily muscled, six foot ten commando - nothing on him was small, not even his thumb. Yska mewled when it finally breached her, filling her petite canal. “That’s it, kitten. Purr for me.”

Heat flooded the blonde’s cheeks at the naughty new nickname. Sex seemed to be the only time the Mandalorian could easily let out his thoughts and desires.

Like a good girl, she practically purred as the warrior slowly worked her pussy with his thumb, his knuckles on her clit. “Aaahhh,” she whined, stretching her body and gripping her hair as her insides clenched. It felt _so_ good. Heat and electricity began to pool low in her belly. The Mandalorian sped up, visor glued to her panting face.

Minutes ticked as Yska’s moans increased, filling the living room with her song. She was so close - her muscles tense, shaking with her impending orgasm. Her channel gripped his thumb tight, as if trying to swallow it. She could just feel the first aching beginnings of her climax when....the Mandalorian pulled away!

Grahhh! She hated this part!

As he doused her arousal with a few sharp smacks to her cunt, she growled in frustration. “Ow!” she gripped her pussy, thighs closing quicker than a blink. “ _Why_ ? Why are you so _mean_?” she groaned, angry tears in the corners of her eyes.

“Because I like your song most when you’ve been worked up,” he cooed softly, voice at odds with his actions. She could practically feel the smirk dripping in his voice.

As she gripped her stinging pussy, he rubbed his hands firmly over her thighs, her softly flaring hips, and back to her full ass. The warrior pulled her off the couch using his grip on her ass, letting her lower back dangle off the edge. Yska’s toes balanced on the cold floor and she shivered.

“Open up,” he commanded. He rubbed the outside of her thighs to encourage more warmth.

She shook her head defiantly. “Nooo,” she whined. “You’re just gonna smack it again.”

He stilled. His voice went very low and very steady. “What did you say to me, little girl?”

_Oh kriff_ . “I-I’m sorry, sir,” she whispered, shrinking even more. She hadn’t denied him yet, too afraid to say _no_ . “It just slipped out.” Yska’s blue eyes started to tear up. She tried to blink them back, eyes cast down. “Please...I’ll do it. I’m sorry.” She was shaking, voice meek and scared, “So, _please_...please don’t...don’t hurt me.” She opened her thighs, eyes averted.

* * *

The Mandalorian sighed. Razzen-Va had been only _partly_ teasing, but...the human didn’t get his sense of humor just yet. She was still too uncertain about her place in all this and he was intimidating. Of course she would think he would punish her for saying _no_. How could he be so foolish? It was so obvious he could have facepalmed.

He hoped one day they might get to a level of trust that she might talk _back_ to him like an entitled brat. He’d like to give her a playful swat on the ass before reminding her who was boss, but...that was unlikely to happen anytime soon with her trauma.

It was his own damn fault. Razzen-Va couldn't rush things with his human. He’d been impatient in so many ways. Why did he lose his cool around her? Why did her mere presence reduce him to the vestiges of an awkward adolescent? _His passion for her was going to get him in trouble._

“Yska,” he gently turned her face back to his visor. “I’m not gonna hurt you. Remember, you'll get a warning before a punishment...and it will be for something _far_ more serious than telling me ‘no.’ I can handle a little rejection now and then.” He made sure his smile warmed his vocoder. He stroked her hair, tucking it behind her round ear. “It takes a lot more than a whine or a disagreement to rile me up, little one. Now,” he picked up the pink vibrator and guided it between her thighs. “Have you had enough or can you handle this?” his helmet tilted to the side.

“I can...do it, sir,” she bit her lip, glancing at the silicone toy. “But….” she blushed, looking at the ground. 

He waited for her to finish, but she didn't. “I need you to speak your mind now, Yska,” Razzen-Va directed.

“Can we...can it just be the once today? I don't think I can handle being built up over and over again like last time. I...I don't like blacking out.”

“Yes,” he smirked with a purely masculine pride. He moved to deposit the slender girl back onto the couch in a more comfortable position. “But, going forward...just tell me next time if you’re that uncomfortable. I know you’re still intimidated by me, but I'm not _that_ disagreeable.” He knelt on the couch in front of her bent knees. “I don’t actually want you to fear sex with me. Do you understand, Yska?”

“Y-yes, sir.”

“Now...open up for me, little human.” This time he made certain she could hear the arousal in his voice. She did as told, fighting her instincts to keep her legs shut.

He turned the pink toy on, the whir making Yska jump. Slowly, he placed it against her slick folds. She gasped. A moan escaped her cupid’s bow lips. She shuddered as he guided it over her clit.

She’d been _so close_ before the discussion and it didn’t take long to recover ground. Soon, her hips were rolling against the toy of their own accord, directing the vibration where she needed it most. Her voice was getting higher by the second.

The Mandalorian leaned in between her legs, impossibly close. His whole view was her slick, open folds and the gyrating toy. His cock pulsed. Razzen-Va's mouth salivated. He wanted nothing more than to rip the helmet off for just _one_ taste….

“Please...too close. It’s embarrassing,” she pleaded. She tried to close her legs, but Razzen-Va wouldn't have that.

“Then choose _not_ to feel embarrassed. _You’re_ the one in control of that. I find this beautiful and I will look my fill.” His lips tingled. Razzen-Va's tongue peeked out to wet them and he shivered at the sensitivity.

He knew it might be strange for the girl to have so much intensely focused attention on her. But she was too close to climax to fight it. She slapped a hand over her mouth before the crucial moment and he ripped it off just in time. “Just let go for me, Yska.”

The edge pulled her over. She wailed. Her groaning sob of relief filled the room.

He was proud. She lay before him, chest heaving, arms slung over tired eyes. It would be easier once she stopped resisting. He gave her a few moments to recover.

The whir flicked on again, louder as he selected a higher setting.

“Huh? I thought you said just once today. Please, I can’t-”

“Yes, I did. Once for _you_ . Now it’s _my_ turn.”

* * *

When Yska was very young, living in the orphanage, she was great at finding information. She was small, quick, and quiet as a mouse. And her attention to detail always came in handy. Whether it was overhearing the right conversation, stumbling upon the right article, or using the right keywords for search engines - she just had a knack for it. Perhaps a bit of luck had followed her around when it came to such things.

One day she’d overheard the key code to the safe where the head nun stored any valuables. Yska had used this knowledge for the greater good, like she always tried to do.

During particularly long nights, young Yska would sneak the old nun’s datapad from the office vault - borrowing it on behalf of the other kids for a night of entertainment. 

The other orphans would gather around the pad in their darkened dorm and watch all manner of holovids, or take turns playing games before the suns came up. It was the one reprieve in their harsh, uncertain existence - one night when they could be carefree children once again.

In the morning, Yska would tip-toe back into the office and replace the datapad exactly how she’d found it, wiped of all their history the night before. The head nun and the staff had never suspected (if they did, they’d never said anything about it).

Later, as Yska had grown older, she would sneak the datapad for more... _nefarious_ reasons.

Most of the orphans aging out of the system would find themselves on the streets, with only a basic education and few marketable skills. With so few viable options, many of them joined the local gangs for security.

Yska had taken it upon herself to suss out information on which gangs were - for lack of better options - the best. As in, which gangs were the least violent, which paid the highest, which communities they protected and ruled, whether they dealt in spice or arms or slaves, etc.

Yska made a severe effort to use her skills to help the older orphans find legitimate work or housing, but few could beat the “benefits” of the local gangs. When honest work was scarce, she would then direct her peers to the lesser evils. She felt if her peers were going to end up in a life of crime, she could at least help by mitigating some of the damage.

Yska would not call herself a hacker or anything like it, but she was uncannily good at finding the right information in the right places. She had become so adept at research under pressure (and had directed so many of her peers to certain organizations) that the head of the Twin Suns Syndicate had tried to recruit her. “Tried” being the operative word. She’d made it clear that she didn’t approve of the mafioso lifestyle, but...she would work as an independent contractor if they continued their practices of “no unnecessary violence.” And _only_ when honest work could _not_ be found. The Twin Suns seemed mollified by the arrangement.

When she’d found herself on the streets at eighteen, having aged out of the system _herself_ , with no honest work...again, the Twin Suns tempted her with high pay and proper tech for her research. She’d found Dex instead, landed up as a brothel slave for her naivete, and then sold to an enigmatic - albeit sexy - Mandalorian commando. _Life was strange_.

So now, even with an outdated datapad and spotty connection to a galactic database, her skills were not even close to rusty. And no other current mystery intrigued her as much as the identity of her owner.

So with little to do (other than to spread her legs when told), she tried her luck yet again at researching what species her Mandalorian might be. As intimidating as he seemed to her, she liked how the warrior looked in his shiny beskar armor, and the dangerous thrill of a secret name and a covered face...and _of course_ , the flanged rumble of his deep baritone voice that made her insides melt. She wished he would talk more just so she could listen to that sensual, dreamy rumble. 

The mandalorian...he could be _anyone_ . He could look like _anything_ . If Yska wasn’t allowed to know his name or see what the Mandalorian looked like underneath his mask, then she just _had_ to know what his species was! As exciting as the mystery and strangeness could be, knowing his species might give her a face to imagine whenever he loomed over her, _inside_ her. 

And...he hadn’t _explicitly_ forbade her from trying to find her own answers…. True, the Mandalorian hadn’t answered her question when she’d asked, but he hadn’t told her she _couldn't_ go...looking. _Kriff_ , he’d even given her a datapad and no restrictions. And a _lot_ of time on her hands.

Off the top of her head, Yska knew her taciturn bounty hunter wasn’t a Twi’lik - the lekku couldn’t fit under that helmet. She doubted he was a Chiss, but she couldn’t rule out the possibility that his markings could be tattoos. Perhaps he was a Zabrak, but she’d never seen markings like his on a Zabrak. Her gut told her he was something different.

It was her third day of continuing her search. She’d bookmarked an archive of known sentient species on the galactic database. Yska prayed for some of her research luck to aid her now, typing into the species’ search engine: Humanoid, blue skin, skin markings.

22,500,000 results.

She sighed.

The girl tried again: Humanoid, blue skin, skin markings, fingernail tattoos.

15,800,000 results.

Gahhh! She growled in frustration. How many years would it take her to go through the process of elimination? Even if she could nix a species every second, it’d take far longer than her natural lifespan. She deflated. She knew nothing about him. Or...nothing that would help.

Perhaps she was going about this all wrong….

“Yska,” called the Mandalorian from down the hall.

Quickly, heart in her throat, she closed the search tab. She opened a reading application to appear as if she’d been perusing a book. “Y-yes?”

“‘’Yes,’ what?” He stopped in the doorway, expectant.

“Yes _sir_. Sorry, sir.” Yska uncurled from the couch, setting the datapad gently on the coffee table. Her eyes cast downward, but her stomach didn’t coil like it had a few days ago at the slipup.

“Do I need to spank it into you for you to remember, little human?” The warrior’s weight shifted. Voice deep through his vocoder.

Yska shivered pleasantly. “No, sir. But...I think you’d _like_ that...sir,” she ventured a bold tease, eyes coy and body coquettish.

“Hmm,” the Mandalorian hummed, hips canted, visor leveled. “That’s just the surface of the things I’d like to do to you, little human.” She could feel his coiled energy filling up the space in the room, the scent of leather and hot metal. Heat pooled between her thighs. “Things we will, unfortunately, have to postpone for another time. We are about to dock at Makeb.”

Yska’s stomach churned.

She had a bad feeling about this….

* * *

Hit subscribe to get notified of updates. I really am trying and I really do intend to finish this (even if it takes a long time). Updates could be sporadic as Covid stay-in policy has thrown me for a mental-loop, and _I’ve been working on a ton of original works_ : fantasy, erotica, romance, and LGBTQ+ stuff - let me know if you’d be interested in previews once I can get those polished!

Secondly, would anyone be interested in an **audio reading** of this story on Youtube? Audiobooks are so popular these days and I have a friend and her husband who volunteered to do fully-acted dramatic readings of this story on their channel…. Please let me know in a comment.

And if it tickles your fancy, please leave a review! Praise or constructive criticism is encouraging-candy to this starving artist - I always want to improve. I have this story already outlined, but _I’d love to know what themes readers would be most interested in_ (who knows, even if it doesn’t show up here, it might spark another story).

Stay well (take your vitamins to boost your immune system!) and be gentle and kind to others. We’re all learning and we’re all in this together!

~Social-distance-spirit-hugs!

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I’ve proved I can’t be trusted with regular updates, but I will try to post every other Friday. Check out my other fics in the meantime.  
> Xoxo,  
> Scarlet Willows


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